Descent
by OtterPotter
Summary: "He silently blessed and cursed the fact that Hawke had stumbled into his life. This beautiful, thoughtful, maddening woman was going to be the death of him." A chronicling of Anders's relationship with Hawke from the near beginning to its turning point, told in thoughts and moments.


**And my story ran away from me again. This started off as a small thing to make myself feel better after school/life/Doctor Who related angst, and then decided that it wanted to take up all of my time. So I present to you what I did instead of doing anything productive: a view of the progression of Anders and Hawke's relationship through Anders' (third person limited) perspective!**

**The song Demons by Imagine Dragons heavily influenced parts of this, so if you want to see part of the inspiration or just listen to a song that perfectly describes this Anders/Hawke relationship, or Anders in general, go listen to it!**

**That being said, I own nothing, not even the hours of my life I put into to this, but you can make that time worth it by taking a couple minutes of yours and reviewing! Thanks and enjoy! **

Closing his eyes, he sighed and ran his hands through his hair, slumping back against the wall. Somewhere in the bottom of his mind he could feel Justice rumble as it sensed where his thoughts were heading, and he felt a flash of irritation. Normally he agreed with Justice, but lately the spirit's disapproval had brought literal meaning to the phrase "at war with oneself". It was enough that he was already painfully conflicted on the matter, but Justice's scorn had only worsened the it, and he couldn't help but think that it was being hypocritical.

Rubbing his eyes, he tried to smother the thoughts in his head, hoping that his fatigue would help aid that process. It wasn't as if he was acting on any of his thoughts anyway, even when…. He let that thought trail off, opening his eyes and busying himself in closing the clinic. His clinic had been empty for quite awhile, and he reckoned it had to be sometime past midnight. Not that he would have been able to get a decent night sleep regardless. On his way to the small room at the back of the clinic that housed his bed, his eyes caught on a small basket.

_Hawke. _The thought stirred his emotions, bringing his mind back to the woman he had sought to not think of. No doubt there was food inside of the basket. She must have left it when she was here earlier to notify him of the next mission she was going to drag him off on while she scrambled to get enough coin to make the Deep Roads expedition. The thought of those accursed tunnels made him shudder, knowing that she would probably take him along with her, if the last few weeks had been any indication. She insisted that she needed someone who was adept at healing and that was why he came with her and the rest of her companions almost every time, and he wouldn't, couldn't, let himself consider the possibility that this wasn't the only reason.

A quick look into the basket had confirmed his suspicions: it was indeed filled with food. Gratitude flushed through him at her silent act; he wasn't quite sure when the last time he had eaten was. He silently blessed and cursed the fact that Hawke had stumbled into his life. This beautiful, thoughtful, maddening woman was going to be the death of him.

If Justice had possessed a head he would have nodded in agreement.

* * *

The Deep Roads were just as bad as he remembered them, dark and dank and downright creepy. He sensed darkspawn like feelers creeping up his spine, curling tendrils around his mind, constantly warning him of their proximity. Relaying this information to Hawke, he could see the curiosity shining in her emerald colored eyes, also noting the fact that she tactfully kept her questions to herself, nothing if not diplomatic.

Diplomatic. That was an adequate word for her, even if words didn't quite suffice in describing her. Around others she was all careful, planned words, striving to solve everything peacefully before she had to resort to drawing her bow. There were few cracks in her countenance, and he felt that she was truly shown through small things- the fact that her sister had been left back in Kirkwall, toys and coin that she had snuck to a child on the streets of Darktown, small jokes and quirks of her lips.

However, during the frozen nights around a meager fire, she became an entirely different person. She laughed heartily with Varric, traded stories with Aveline, and quipped with him. Anders realized belatedly that this person she became was the one he had been getting glimpses of all along- the confidence and competence tempered with humor and compassion.

Then there was yet another side of her he hadn't seen until long after everyone had retired for the night. He was keeping the smoldering embers company as he took the first watch. Sleep was impossible with the phantom whispers of darkspawn blood in his ears and the strain of navigating his thoughts away from Justice's stern reproach. He was startled out of his revere as he felt a presence next to him, and turned to see the subject of his contemplation.

"Anders," she said quietly, taking a seat next to him.

"Hawke," he returned, trying not to notice how her light brown curls now fell loose messily past her shoulders. Instead he focused on her eyes, noticing for the first time how ragged and weary her expression was. He knew that expression. He had seen it in a mirror often enough. Letting the silence stretch for a moment, he felt compelled to say something to her. Anything. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Haven't been able to ever since we got to the Deep Roads," she admitted, looking away from him and into the waning fire. Firelight flickered and danced over her features, both brightening and dulling them. "Though, it's more than just that. I just…keep thinking about Lothering."

"Did you have family there?" he asked, not quite sure why he had.

"No," she said quickly, then corrected herself. "Well, yes. I mean, it was just my mom, Bethany, Carver, and I. And my dad, while he was still alive. He was an apostate, so we switched towns a lot. Lothering kept it pretty quiet because he would heal their sick, but it didn't earn us any friends in town. Still, it felt like home for awhile."

She quieted, and Anders pondered what she had told him. Her father, an apostate? It would make sense that her sympathy for mages had spread past just concern for her sister, but there was still a part of the story that didn't make sense to him.

"Carver?" he questioned gently, regretting it as soon as he caught her eyes glistening in the light of the fire.

"Bethany's twin," she explained. "My brother. He was such a brat sometimes, always jealous that I was better with a bow than him, even though he could handle a sword five times better than I ever could. So rash, running after an ogre that we faced on our way out of Lothering. If he had just waited, if I had been faster…but he had to go first. He had to prove himself, and the ogre took his life for it." She swiped at her eyes, and he stifled an impulse to wipe the tears away for her. Unable to think of anything to say, he settled for putting a hand on her shoulder in a manner he hoped was comforting.

"I'm sorry," he told her sincerely. "I didn't realize…"

"You couldn't have known," she cut him off. "No need to apologize."

They didn't speak much after that, though something seemed to linger between them. Hawke remained by his side for the rest of his watch before insisting that he try to get some sleep.

Their conversation had stayed in his mind though. The crack in her composure, however slight, reminded him of how painstakingly human she was. And he admired her even more for it.

* * *

When they had gotten out of the Deep Roads, he half expected he wouldn't see her again for quite some time. She had a life to come back to, a family, and a mansion to reclaim. All he had was his clinic. They hadn't been back a full day yet though when she had come back into his clinic.

"Hawke, what is it?" he asked, catching her expression that was half-hidden behind a calm exterior. It was the same one she had had when she was speaking of Carver.

"It's Bethany," she told him, looking almost stunned. "The templars…they took her to the Circle."

Anger rolled inside him, and he quickly tried to suppress Justice's rage, feeling the edges of his consciousness loosening.

"Anders?" Hawke said slowly. "Anders, I need you to be here right now. I know it seems a little unreasonable of me to come to you with this and not expect this reaction, but I needed to get out of my house and I…Just, please. I can't deal with losing my sister and you going crazy on me in the same day. I need you to be here. Please." Justice loosened his hold slightly, hesitantly, and he realized that she was holding onto his hand. Her touch was an anchor as he regained control.

"Thank you," she said softly, and he felt something that felt an awful lot like respect resonating off of Justice. A thought came into his mind, unbidden, that he was sure originated from the spirit, and he realized he had misunderstood Justice's disapproval of his burgeoning feelings for Hawke.

_You are going to break her heart. _

* * *

Hawke had settled into her mansion, Aveline had found her place again with the guards, Varric was back telling tales of Hawke's adventures in the Hanged Man, and Anders had again found himself holed up in his clinic. Not that he didn't like his clinic. It was quite the opposite, in fact. The clinic was one of the few places where he felt like he was actually doing something. Like he was making a tangible difference. As much as he loathed admitting it, what was bothering him was the absence of the others presence. Especially Hawke's.

He only had a few days to wallow in this however, for less than a week after Hawke moved into her mansion, she came to the clinic again. Smiling when she saw him, she tentatively asked if there was anything that she could do to help. His magic did most of the healing and he was capable of handling the clinic by himself, and was about to tell her that, but her sincerity stopped him. Whatever ulterior motives he (or Justice, really) could possible suspect her of were thrown off by her honest desire to help these people. And so he began to train her in some basic first aid, and found that she already knew how to do most of whatever he could think to teach her.

Her presence in the clinic eventually became constant. Though she could only handle minor wounds, she worked with people much better than he did, providing compassion and whatever else she could manage to those who came into the clinic. Stocking the shelves full of food, she made sure that everyone who came through the doors were fed and taken care of.

Whenever she wasn't with him in the clinic, she was back to dragging him and Varric and Aveline around, which meant that they practically saw each other all of the time.

Anders tried to tell himself that the friendship they had developed was sufficient, but every once in awhile she would hint at wanting something more, and every time it became more painful to deny her. The only thing that kept him resolute was that the more his feelings for her deepened, the more he was sure she deserved better than a half-mad, spirit possessed mage.

* * *

His thoughts raced as he rummaged through his things, scrambling for something to distract himself from the fact that he had almost killed a fellow mage, a young girl. This was not right. Justice was…he was not quite Justice anymore. Anders had been trying to deny it for years, but it was now abundantly clear. How could he—they—he kill an innocent? A mage, no less. If Hawke hadn't been there….

As if his thoughts had summoned her, he heard her voice from behind him.

"Anders?"

He didn't answer her. He had let her down, had failed himself, had failed her.

"Anders," she tried again, putting a hand on his shoulder. He stood, skittering away from her touch, ignoring the hurt that flashed through her eyes. "You didn't kill her."

"I was going to," he said. "Maker, Hawke, I was going to kill her."

"But you didn't," she insisted, firmly meeting his gaze. "You fought it. You regained control."

"Only because you were there," he snapped, refusing to let her console him.

"Listen to me," she pleaded, gently placing a hand on the side of his cheek. He froze. "You are more than what haunts you. _You _fought _vengeance's_ influence. And if me being there helped you do that, then I will make sure that I am there for you, because that's what you do when you care about someone." She released him, and then pressed something into his hand. "There's a door just outside this clinic that leads up to my house. If you need something, _anything_, and I'm not here, come find me. Please." He was speechless, and she looked at him one last time, worry and concern evident on her face, before leaving.

He processed what she had said pieces at a time. She had noticed that Justice wasn't Justice anymore, had called the influence on him Vengeance, putting a name to something that he hadn't been able to himself. Anders wondered just how well she knew him, that she had come to this conclusion before he had.

Opening his hand, he found that she had given him a key. The trust that she had put in him was overwhelming, and he felt almost guilty about the warmness that ran through him when he remembered that she had said she cared about him. The thought gave him just as much pain as pleasure though, as he could never let his wonderful, foolish angel know just how much he cared about her.

* * *

After she had given him the key to her home, Anders didn't see Hawke for a week. He supposed that she was graciously trying to give him space, and for his part he was trying his best to distance himself from the gigantic mess that she didn't know she was making. She had put him at war—he was trying to distance himself for her own safety, feeling pain at the hurt he must be causing her, and longing to be near her, with her. Knowing Hawke though, it wasn't going to be long before she gave up her efforts to respect his space, and he wasn't sure he could restrain himself for much longer.

True to form, he heard Hawke's light footsteps when he was in the middle of putting milk out for the stray cats.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice tinged with amusement.

"Putting milk out for the cats," he replied, giving her a brief smile. "I miss having one around. But I think all of the refugees have scared them off…Or maybe eaten them." He righted himself, facing her. There was still concern on her face, as well as amusement, and something else he didn't quite place. Seeing her again made him realize how stupid he had been to think that he could avoid her. After everything she had done, he owed her so much more than that.

"I'm glad you're here, Vivian," he told her honestly, and a wide smile brightened her face, eyes sparkling. "What?"

"You said my name. My first name." she said, beaming. "I was beginning to think that everyone forgot that I had one."

"I can't speak for the others," he smiled, thinking that it would be worth saying her name more often. "But I did want to thank you for everything that you've done, for the mages here in Kirkwall, for me, when you didn't have to. One day we'll make a world where your sister can be free."

Hawke hesitated before replying, her fingers brushing a stray curl behind her ears.

"I do have to admit that I have an ulterior motive," she confessed. "Anders, it would kill me to see the templars lock you up."

His resolve was breaking. It was crumbling down after three years of tortuous longing. Desperately he tried to cling to the last few pieces of his willpower.

"I've been trying to hold back," he admitted, pleading for her to understand. "You saw what I did to that girl. You've seen what I am. But I'm still a man. You can't keep teasing me like this and expect me to resist forever."

"I don't want you to resist," she said, sealing their fate with those six words.

That was it. Everything he had done to try and prevent this, to try and protect her, was made irrelevant with those words.

Before he could even track what he was doing, he had closed the distance between them, pulling her into his arms and crashing his lips to hers.

_This will be a disaster, but I can't live without it. _


End file.
